


When the Nightmares Start

by Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:38:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysBoth/pseuds/Wolftraps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<em>Don't,</em>" Derek snapped. "You haven't lied to me since the second time we met, Stiles. Don't start now. Not for <em>him.</em>"</p>
<p>Stiles sighed, stopped trying to smile, and as the facade fell, he seemed to shrink, to curl in on himself. And the smaller he got, the less Derek recognized him; like he was just a shade of the man who Derek had seen hold up, and back, werewolves with twice his muscle mass. It was unnerving. Wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Nightmares Start

**Author's Note:**

> [thebestfonewm](http://thebestfonewm.tumblr.com) said: Then you should take my prompt space and make it stiles in an abusive relationship and maybe suspicious derek or Derelict getting him out of it, OR Derek could be the abuser? OR STILES OMG   
>   
>   
> [(x)](http://wolftraps.tumblr.com/post/68146831754/when-the-nightmares-start)  
>   
>  Seriously, though, this fic portrays a physically, emotionally, and psychologically abusive relationship, and if that is in any way triggering to you, please take care.

  
_It hurts. Everything… everything hurts. Every labored breath sends a sharp pain through Stiles's chest, like being stabbed over and over. His head is throbbing and his arms feel heavy, and he can't seem to move his right leg. There's a shrill tone in his ears; it feels like it should mean something but it's so muffled, distorted.  
  
"I'm sorry," someone says, their shaking hands running over his head and chest, and the pain fades slightly but not nearly enough. "I'm sorry I had to do this, but you pushed me to it, saying those things."   
  
Red eyes come into view, into focus, kneeling over Stiles. And it's hard to think through all the pain, but his brain still screams "_ danger _", so he tries to pull away. The agony is like a stack of dominoes; every little move to alleviate one pain sparks another, on and on.  
  
"I can fix this," _ he _says, stroking the tears off Stiles's face. "I can. But you need to understand, Stiles. No more talk of leaving, and you're not going to see that failure anymore._ I _love you._ Me _. We have a bond, you and I, and I will make you see that. I will help you, and that bond will grow. I'll be your alpha. And you'll understand. No one else can love you like I do. You're_ mine. _"  
  
The tone, the ringing, finally comes to an end as he crushes Stiles's phone and lets the pieces fall.   
  
_ \---------   
  
  
Kye and his pack came to Beacon Hills at the start of summer, just after junior year. Four new werewolves in a caravan of mismatched vehicles, sporting literal white flags as they requested an alliance with Scott McCall's pack and permission to move into town.   
  
They were fun and nice, offering to help however they could and setting up shop without breaking anything. Even past that, though, from the first interpack meeting, Kye was immediately interested in Stiles, who was definitely interested back. So they stayed, and Stiles and Kye had their first date two weeks later. The only one who seemed to have an issue with it was Derek, but everyone knew he had trust issues.   
  
\------------   
  
  
Derek didn't trust the new pack. He didn't trust the betas and he especially didn't trust their alpha. And despite what Isaac may say, it wasn't because he was into Stiles. There was just something about him, something in his eyes that reminded Derek of Kate.   
  
The others all liked them, though, and Derek wasn't alpha anymore, wasn't even part of Scott's pack really, so he expressed his initial distrust and then kept out of it. He made a point to avoid them, though, skipping out on any gatherings if he knew they would be there; he didn't need to get close to anyone else who was only going to stab him in the back. Which was probably why he didn't learn about the alpha, Kye, asking Stiles out until a month after their first date.   
  
It wasn't jealousy that drove him to change his habits, to attend any meeting the new pack did, to get to know the betas, to learn everything he could about this alpha. It wasn't jealousy. It was… concern.   
  
Stiles, like all of them, had been through a lot, and he was always trying to look out for his family, his friends. He deserved to have someone look out for him.   
  
\------------   
  
  
_There's a banging to match the pounding in Stiles's head and someone is yelling. Someone…  
  
It's hard to see, to breathe, to swallow. There's something in his throat, tickling until he coughs and tastes blood. Some part of him recognizes that he's going to die, that small part not consumed with pain, but it's hard to care. Hard to-   
  
Kye is still talking, saying something. He sounds- sounds worried, panicked, angry. And there's a crash somewhere and the yelling- the shouting gets closer.   
  
"It's going to be okay, Stiles," Kye says, lifting Stiles's arm to kiss the back of his hand. "I'll take care of this and it'll all be okay." And a new, sharp pain stabs into Stiles's arm and fire floods through him. _  
  
\------------   
  
  
Stiles was in love. Completely, totally, head over heels. It was enough that even Scott set limits on how much he could talk about it. And if there was a small voice in his head, still mooning over someone else, then it could just shut up because that obviously wasn't going to happen.   
  
Kye was… god, he was gorgeous. Not exactly Derek Hale levels of physical perfection, but who was? Besides Derek. And he was smart and laughed at Stiles's jokes, and he knew how to have a good time. And, most importantly, he was super into Stiles. Unlike certain other people that Stiles really needed to get over.   
  
There were drawbacks, of course. Kye had his faults. He was possessive, demanding, and sometimes overly critical, but Stiles definitely wasn't perfect. They were works in progress.   
  
And the sex was _awesome._   
  
\------------   
  
  
There was something wrong with Stiles. There was, even if Derek was the only one who saw it. He was quieter, more serious, and there was a new uncertainty in his voice whenever he offered plans or information, like he was constantly second guessing himself. He spent less time with Scott, not that Derek was stalking them or anything, and he never volunteered to go on the riskier outings anymore.   
  
Still, no one else was concerned, or even seemed to notice much, so Derek didn't say anything. Not until the night Stiles didn't show up at a planning meeting about the new siren in town.   
  
"Where's Stiles?" Derek asked, once it was clear he wasn't just running late. If anyone had a problem with his accusing tone or the fact that it was aimed entirely at Kye, they kept quiet. Well, actually, they probably didn't. No doubt Scott had something to say. But Derek was focused.   
  
"He stayed home tonight," Kye responded, looking around at the others bemusedly. "Why?"   
  
Derek's eyes narrowed. "Stiles did the digging on this one. He wouldn't 'stay home' if you broke both his legs."   
  
Something flashed over Kye's face, too quick to interpret, before he settled back into the general contempt he always had for Derek. "He had the chance to spend some time with his dad. I told him he should. Now can we get to it, or do you want to keep bitching because you can't spend the next hour staring at my boyfriend's ass?"   
  
Blue eyes flashed, met with red, but Scott stepped between them before it could escalate further.   
  
" _Stop._ Look, we can do this without Stiles for once. Let him have some time with his dad. Now let's get to work. _Okay?_ "   
  
  
Later, as Derek was on his way home, he only got the barest warning before he was tackled from behind and pinned against the nearest building; arm pulled up behind his back until he couldn't move without injury.   
  
"Look at the sad little wolf, all on his lonesome," Kye crooned in his ear. "Well listen up, stray. I've seen the way you look at him; _smelled_ how you want him. So let me make this clear. He's _mine._ And if you talk to him, if you go near him, if you _look_ at him too long, then I swear, screw the alliance. I will put you down like your pack should have the day you got those eyes." He pushed Derek's arm farther and farther, gripped tighter and tighter, as he spoke until there was a loud pop and sharp crack.   
  
\------------   
  
  
The first time Kye hit him wasn't in anger. It wasn't punishment. It was to prove a point; a point Stiles knew but often ignored. And Stiles was known to be stubborn and reckless. Sometimes people needed to go a little further than they normally would to get his attention, that's all.   
  
"You see," Kye had said, helping Stiles off the floor, brushing a hand softly across his stomach where the punch had landed. When Stiles was seated, Kye's grip tightened briefly, digging a thumb into the area until Stiles hissed in pain. Then he backed off, pulling a little of the pain with him. "You're human, Stiles. You're so breakable. Throwing yourself into danger with us is only going to get you hurt and put everyone else at risk. You're a distraction. We don't need you, so you should stay home tonight and spend some time with your dad. Okay?"   
  
Once, Stiles might have argued. Might have said okay and gone anyway. He was past that, though. Everyone else would probably be relieved anyway. So he nodded and stayed home and fended off questions for the next few days about why he often looked like he was in pain.   
  
  
That wasn't where it started, though. Things started going sour long before that. With each jab at Stiles's appearance, every snap to 'shut up' and 'no one cares', every complaint about how he could never just fucking _sit still._ It was when Kye told him he was weak and slow and laughed like it was a joke, and how he started screening Stiles's calls when they were together. It was the first time Stiles had gone down on him and Kye had pulled his hair and pushed his head farther down and said "I guess we finally found something you're good at."   
  
It was when they got in a huge fight, and Stiles was close to leaving, and Kye just asked "who else is going to want you?"   
  
\------------   
  
  
_Everything comes in flashes. Screams. Crashing. Pain. So much pain. Fire in his veins. Someone calling. Calling his name. Stiles. Hands on his skin. Someone. Cradling his head. Oh god, Stiles. Flashes behind his eyelids. Screaming. Screaming. Stiles! The fire dims, just slightly, as the world shakes and goes dark._  
  
\------------   
  
  
"Stiles?" Derek asked. Stiles smelled off; his normal scent tinted with salt and sour. He startled when Derek called his name, dropping his keys and wheeling around. There wasn't really any way of knowing for sure how long Stiles had been standing here, staring blankly at the door of his jeep, but Derek would guess it had been a while. Stiles blinked owlishly at the sky like he wasn't sure how the sun had gotten where it was.   
  
"Derek, hey," he responded finally. "I thought you gave up the ninja life. The whole creeper-wolf routine? Still not cool, dude." He tried to smile, but it looked forced.   
  
"I called your name twice."   
  
"Oh." The silence between them was awkward, both of them aware that something was wrong, but neither really prepared to broach it. Derek stuck his hands in his pockets and Stiles reached for his keys, looking almost nervously back at his jeep when he straightened. "Um, I should probably-"   
  
"Why are you nervous?" A small part of Derek thought he probably should have come at it a little kinder, but that wasn't really their way.   
  
"What?" Stiles asked, actually looking at Derek for the first time. He forced another smile. "I'm not." But his heartbeat told otherwise, and they both knew it.   
  
"You are. If you-"   
  
"Dude, I'm fi-"   
  
_"Don't,"_ Derek snapped. "You haven't lied to me since the second time we met, Stiles. Don't start now. Not for _him._ "   
  
Stiles sighed, stopped trying to smile, and as the facade fell, he seemed to shrink, to curl in on himself. And the smaller he got, the less Derek recognized him; like he was just a shade of the man who Derek had seen hold up, and back, werewolves with twice his muscle mass. It was unnerving. Wrong.   
  
"Why are you doing this, Derek? Why do you keep poking at it?" Stiles's voice was weary, resigned, his defensive sarcasm long gone. "Why can't you be like everyone else, and just be happy for me that I'm in love?"   
  
"Because you're _not._ You're not in love with him, Stiles. I can hear it. He's breaking you, and you deserve better than that."   
  
Stiles sneered and something roiled in Derek's stomach. "Yeah? And what better am I supposed to find, Derek? You?"   
  
Derek's hesitation lasted a few seconds too long, and the _hurt_ that Stiles tried to hide was the worst. Because Derek caused that. _Derek_ was the one cutting Stiles down that little bit more, just because he was afraid of what his feelings might cause.   
  
"That's what I thought," Stiles said softly, finally opening the door of his jeep. He wouldn't look at Derek anymore.   
  
"Stiles-"   
  
"What do you want, Derek?" Stiles yelled, whipping around. " _Why are you here?_ "   
  
"... Because you need _someone_ to be."   
  
The expressions on Stiles's face warred so much that Derek couldn't interpret them, but when they settled, he didn't look any less broken than before. Derek's only hope lay in the brief hesitation before Stiles climbed into his jeep and drove away.   
  
\------------   
  
  
_There are moments Stiles thinks he must be awake, because everything hurts too much to be a dream. But they don't last long. He can barely register his surroundings sometimes, and he thinks he hears his mother's voice and he must be dead. Other times, it's like everything is flooding in all at once; waves of smells and sounds that he can't process and he struggles to breathe through the overload.  
  
Sometimes, he wakes and sees his dad, sitting hunched over in the chair beside his bed with his head in his hands.   
  
The best times, though, and the hardest to tell from dreams, are when Derek is there, holding his hand and combing fingers through his hair. Nothing hurts then, and all he hears, sees, smells, is Derek. Derek, who looks at him like something precious and tells him it's going to be okay with a steady heartbeat. _  
  
\------------   
  
The second time Kye hit him, they were fighting, and Stiles threw the first punch, and the second. But Kye threw the last; an uppercut to Stiles's jaw that floored him and left him dazed. By the time he could drag himself off the ground, Kye was healed; red eyes glowing cold as he watched Stiles struggle.   
  
The concussion and fractured jaw were harder to pass off as nothing.   
  
The third time Stiles couldn't excuse to himself. He'd just wanted to spend some time with Scott. He'd even left Kye a message, telling him where he went. But Kye was convinced Stiles had gone to see Derek; that he was trying to leave him. So Stiles made up some bullshit story to explain the black eye and dislocated shoulder to everyone else, but the first opportunity he got, that was what he did.   
  
He went to Derek and asked him to help him get out.   
  
\------------   
  
Stiles didn't want to involve his dad. He didn't want to tell Scott. He didn't want anyone to know what was going on except Derek. But Stiles also had doubts, and Derek felt lost. It was like their roles were switched, and suddenly Stiles was resigning himself to a horrible situation and Derek needed to convince and reassure him of his course of action with just words. Not exactly his strong point.   
  
So Derek sat and watched as Stiles paced and fretted, biting at his thumb nail. He listened as Stiles detailed the things that were wrong with his relationship and then tried to excuse them, so rationalize staying in such a toxic environment. Until finally it was too much.   
  
Derek stood, walked over to Stiles, and stopped him with a hand on each shoulder, then backed him up to the couch and sat him down. The way Stiles looked up at him… Derek crouched down, balancing himself with his forearms on his knees, so he sat a couple inches shorter than Stiles.   
  
"I don't know what I'm doing," Stiles said, rubbing a hand over his face. "I know- I know it's bad. I know I need out, but… God, it's like he's in my head, telling me this is a huge mistake. I'm nothing without him. No one else needs me; no one else _wants_ me."   
  
"You're wrong," Derek snapped. Then, " _He's_ wrong."   
  
"Oh, yeah, people are just lining up to get with me. How could I have missed that? I'm such a hot commodity." There was an ugly, self-deprecating expression on Stiles's face, his voice dripping sour with sarcasm, and Derek could feel his temper rising.   
  
"Stop," he said, clenching his jaw.   
  
Stiles leaned forward, getting in Derek's face with a matching anger. "Why? You know I'm right. Especially now." He waved a hand at his bruised face, the sling cradling his arm. "Look at me, Derek. _Listen_ to me. I'm fucking damaged goods. No one-"   
  
It was all Derek could take. He dropped forward onto one knee, closing the short distance Stiles had left and catching his lips in a kiss. It was sort, quick, hardly more than a peck, and he resisted the urge to touch Stiles, to cup his cheek or draw him in. It lasted bare seconds before Derek drew back, and he made sure Stiles could recoil unrestricted.   
  
He didn't, but he didn't look happy either.   
  
"Why would you do that?" he asked flatly. Derek opened his mouth, hesitated, and released the breath in a sigh. "What, seemed like a good idea at the time? Wanted to shut me up? Just felt bad for that poor, broken kid who's been crushing on you forever? I don't need your pity, Derek. I know you don't like me like-"   
  
"I do," Derek interrupted. "I do like you, Stiles. I have for a while."   
  
"But… back then, you said-"   
  
"Nothing. And it was stupid, but," Derek heaved another sigh. "Relationships haven't exactly ended well for me in the past." They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, Stiles searching Derek's face for _something,_ though Derek couldn't begin to guess if he found it.   
  
"I'm not leaving him for you," Stiles said.   
  
"No," Derek agreed. "But you need to leave him for _you._ And then we can talk. I remember you being pretty good at that."   
  
A small smile tugged at the edges of Stiles's mouth. "So what now?" he asked. "I just go pack up my things? Hope he doesn't follow me home?"   
  
"We'll work something out. Line your dad's house with ash for a while. And… you don't need to do this now. We can wait a little while, work out a better plan. I'll…" Derek trailed off.   
  
"No," Stiles said, then again, stronger, "No. I have to do it now. He's out with his pack tonight, he'll be gone late. And if I wait, I might change my mind."   
  
"Okay." Derek nodded, standing and holding out a hand to help Stiles up. "Okay. I'll come with you."   
  
"No. I need to go on my own. If he knows you were there, it'll be worse." They stared each other down, neither liking the situation, but Stiles wasn't going to bend on this one.   
  
"Fine," Derek conceded. "But if you're not back in an hour, I'm coming after you."   
  
Stiles gave him a half smile and took his hand back, grabbing his jacket and phone. He stopped at the door on his way out, paused, then turned to look back at Derek. A determined expression fell over his face and he stalked back across the room, pulling Derek into a quick, hard kiss.   
  
"We're talking about this later," he said as he pulled back, then walked out the door.   
  
\------------   
  
  
Despite backing down, Derek apparently couldn't let Stiles do it completely alone, and Stiles was secretly grateful. He'd only been shoving his things into a garbage bag for five minutes when Derek called, but already his resolve was wavering. Though it was hard to forget his reasons when he had to work mostly one-handed.   
  
"How long are you going to take?" Derek asked when Stiles picked up.   
  
"Probably about twice as long as I would if someone wasn't calling to nag me. Go figure."   
  
"Just put me on speaker or something."   
  
Stiles worked in silence for a few more minutes, but it was nice to have the illusion of companionship. He was about half done when he heard the front door open and close, and it was all he could do to keep moving and not hyperventilate.   
  
"Stiles?" Derek said quietly, and Stiles hushed him frantically. He turned to go end the call, but he'd left the phone on the other side of the room, and Kye was walking in with a smile. It fell as soon as he took in the bag in Stiles's hand, the open drawers, the missing books.   
  
"What's this?" he asked tightly, and the automatic flinch Stiles got when Kye's hands curled into fists was just enough to strengthen his resolve.   
  
"This is me," he said, "packing my things." He stalked past Kye, heart pounding in his chest, willing himself to not be afraid. When Kye grabbed his injured arm, squeezing painfully, Stiles barely flinched and felt a glimmer of pride in himself. It helped him stand tall for the short moment before Kye leaned in and sniffed up his collar, and his face grew thunderous with rage.   
  
"You're leaving me for _him?_ For that pathetic waste of space?" Kye sneered. "You think, what? He loves you? What happens when he figures out he doesn't? When he loses control like omegas always do? Or when he realizes you'll apparently get on your knees for anyone who'll pretend to be nice to you."   
  
Stiles managed to land one decent punch, but it hardly phased Kye for more than a few seconds, and then he was slamming Stiles into the wall and digging claws into his neck. He grabbed the arm in the sling again, twisting and bending it the wrong was until Stiles screamed in pain and stopped struggling against his hold. Kye smiled softly, petting Stiles's hair as Stiles held his shoulder, breathing heavy.   
  
"You're not going anywhere, Stiles," Kye said, "and you're definitely not leaving me for Derek _fucking_ Hale."   
  
"No," Stiles hissed, lifting his head to glare back. "I'm leaving because you're an abusive asshole."   
  
The next hit landed on his cheek and slammed his head back into the wall. When the pain dissipated enough that he could see Kye's rage, he huffed a low laugh, spat the blood from his cut up cheek onto Kye's shirt, and spread his good arm; an open target.   
  
"You can't hide me here forever, Kye. Not when there are people waiting for me out there. So what are you gonna do, huh? Beat the shit out of me and send me home to the sheriff? I'm human, as you keep reminding me. These things aren't going to just heal overnight. Someone's gonna notice, even if I don't say anything. So let. Me. Go."   
  
Miraculously, Kye did, and took a step back, looking at Stiles curiously. There wasn't time to question it, though. Stiles pulled away, and continued toward the dresser where his phone sat. Half of him hoped Derek had hung up when he realized Kye might hear him. The other half hoped he was still connected, still there with Stiles in some way, coming to get him maybe.   
  
"I have what I need," Stiles said, like he was telling Kye, but it was meant for Derek, if he was there. "I'm going." There was just enough time for him to light up the screen, to see Derek's name still there at the top and feel a sense of relief, before a deep growl came from behind.   
  
"No," Kye said, stepping up behind Stiles, his whole being menacing. "You're right. You won't heal, and I can't keep you here. Not like this. But I can fix it. You're not fucking leaving me." With his last few words, Stiles felt a hand grip his hair and slam his head hard into the edge of the dresser. He thought he might have heard Derek scream his name before his world became pain.   
  
\------------   
  
  
_The nightmares start right away. Dreams of pain, fear, of Kye's red eyes and grinning fangs. Stiles wakes up gasping for breath, tearing at the sheets wrapped around him. And his world is terror for a few brief seconds after waking.  
  
But his new senses, as he learns to use them, let him grasp the world around him easier than he used to. He can hear his dad's heart down the hall, smell the faint scent of Scott, his new alpha, on the sweatshirt he'd left behind earlier. Most of all, though, he hears, smells, _ feels _Derek's presence beside him. Derek, who has refused to leave Stiles's side at night since the day he was turned._  
  
And it's easy, then, for Stiles to remind himself of where he is. To remember that Kye will never be heard from again and his pack was run off the territory. To know that, no matter what, someone is going to be there for him when he needs it.   
  
The nightmares start right away, but that's okay, because Stiles wakes up and knows he's safe. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [Wolftraps](http://wolftraps.tumblr.com) on tumblr, so you should come say hi or yell at me or whatever.


End file.
